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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26721103">blindsided, addicted.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/discodancing/pseuds/discodancing'>discodancing</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up &amp; Making Up, Iwaizumi Hajime needs a hug, M/M, Makki and Mattsun's Usual Clownery, Post-Break Up, because thats a banger, heavy inspiration from moral of the story by ashe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:15:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,044</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26721103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/discodancing/pseuds/discodancing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Weeks pass, and he tries to forget. Really, he does. He tries to forget the feeling of Tooru’s lips, of his skin, but it’s stuck to him like glue. It’s like a blanket he can’t seem to remove, wrapped around him and keeping him stuck in this rut. The apartment feels empty, and the bed feels far too big. He sleeps in a starfish position, most nights, to try and fill the space Tooru used to take up. The space doesn’t look right empty anymore. </p>
<p>(He doesn’t move anything, though, especially not the framed photo of Tooru’s family that he must have forgotten.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>blindsided, addicted.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>okay. this took me inappropriately long to finish, and it's not even that good. someday ill write something that'll blow a fandom's socks off, but that day is definitely not today.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tooru’s hands cling to the cardboard box in his hands, and he doesn’t look up to meet Hajime’s eyes. It’s the last of his things from their apartment in that box— framed pictures, a pair of old teal knee pads, a roll of expensive medical tape. Hajime isn’t sure of the exact contents of the box, for he didn’t actually watch while Tooru was packing, but he knows that the engagement ring isn’t in there. </p>
<p>The engagement ring, a silver infinity twist laid with small diamonds, lays at the bottom of the Kitakami River.</p>
<p>“It was fun.” Tooru says, and Hajime wants to cry. He doesn’t, instead reaching out to hold the door open just a little bit longer. Anything to make Tooru stay with him only a little bit longer.</p>
<p>“Yeah.” He responds, and Tooru is out the door. </p>
<p>(Hajime knows in that moment that it’s possible to convince Tooru to come back. All he has to do is tell him to stay, to grab his wrist and tell him that he’ll buy him a brand new ring. He doesn’t, and he watches Tooru leave.)</p>
<p>Weeks pass, and he tries to forget. Really, he does. He tries to forget the feeling of Tooru’s lips, of his skin, but it’s stuck to him like glue. It’s like a blanket he can’t seem to remove, wrapped around him and keeping him stuck in this rut. The apartment feels empty, and the bed feels far too big. He sleeps in a starfish position, most nights, to try and fill the space Tooru used to take up. The space doesn’t look right empty anymore. </p>
<p>(He doesn’t move anything, though, especially not the framed photo of Tooru’s family that he must have forgotten.)</p>
<p>They have a lot of close mutual friends. They’ve got Makki, Mattsun, Kyoutani, Yahaba and a ton more that he can’t even count on his fingers. There’s no divide, though, not really. They hang out separately, since Tooru and Hajime (once TooruandHajime) are trying to be mature about this whole ordeal.</p>
<p>Apparently Hajime isn’t much fun to hang out with, though, since Makki tells him he does nothing but sit alone and wallow. He disagrees. It’s not wallowing, it’s processing. There’s a big difference.</p>
<p>“You’ve been processing for a month.” Kyoutani tells him one day, prodding at the Hajime shaped lump of blankets on the couch. “Get up. This is pathetic.”</p>
<p>Hajime only grumbles in response. Kyoutani is right— it’s definitely more than a little pathetic, but he can’t bring himself to care. He doesn’t open his phone anymore, because he sees posts of Tooru having fun with his friends, throwing up peace signs. He doesn’t do much ‘hanging out’, for he knows that he’s almost a liability at this point. He puts his earbuds in and listens to sad music while his friends stare at him like he’s got four heads.</p>
<p>“Mad-Dog isn’t very poetic, but he’s right.” Makki says, and Hajime nearly laughs. “You’ve got to broaden your horizons. See the world.” </p>
<p>Hajime groans, rolling over and pulling a blanket from over his head. He’s not crying. Since the breakup, he hasn’t cried even once, which he congratulates himself for. He’s only been angry, throwing things and breaking things around the apartment. Mattsun tells him that’s worse than crying, but he doesn’t think that's true. Crying makes it real. </p>
<p>(Hajime doesn’t tell Makki that he’s tried to broaden his horizons, but nobody quite matches up to Tooru.)</p>
<p>“C’mon. Up we go.” Mattsun says, and suddenly he’s lifting Hajime off the couch bridal style. Now, really, Hajime isn’t small. He’s shorter than most of his friends, but he’s got a lot of muscle. The fact that they can just lift him is a little bit infuriating. The contact is nice, though, so he lets himself be held for a little bit longer than necessary. Mattsun doesn’t seem to mind, anyways, only laughing softly down at him. </p>
<p>Hajime’s only dressed in a pair of black sweatpants, and Yahaba grimaces at him. “Put those away.” He gestures vaguely to Hajime’s pecs, disgusted, and Hajime manages the first smile his friends have seen in a month. </p>
<p>“What? Never seen pecs before, Yahaba? C’mon, Mad-Dog, don’t deprive your man of—” Makki’s immediately cut off by a harsh smack to the head from Kyoutani, and Iwaizumi leaves them to it while he goes to change.</p>
<p>He also… sort of needs a minute. The four of them remind him so sorely of Tooru, with their bubbly laughs and simpleminded idiocy. It’s so painful to think about him when they haven’t so much as spoken in a month, and Hajime hates that the only thing he seems to want is to feel Tooru beside him once more.</p>
<p>He turns to his dresser, wincing at the photo that he’s yet to move for some stupid reason. It’s framed, a gift from his mother for their first ever ‘anniversary’ (they’d only been dating— Hajime’s mother felt that it wasn’t a real anniversary until they were wed). </p>
<p>Maybe he should move it. He knows Tooru doesn’t have any framed photos of them in his bedroom, wherever that may be. </p>
<p>Maybe it’s time he stops thinking about it, actually, so instead of having to look at it any longer, he faces it downwards. Out of sight, out of mind as they say. </p>
<p>For the first time in a while, he actually pays attention to what he’s dressing himself in. It’s not to say that he quite cares about what he looks like (the only person he wants to impress doesn’t even care anymore), but he knows that if he goes to the living room looking anything less than pristine, he’ll be sent back by Yahaba. </p>
<p>He pulls from his closet a teal button up, and a pair of black slacks are pulled from his dresser. He doesn’t know where they’re meant to be going, only that semi-formal is the code of dress. It’s probably a fancy club of some kind if he knows his friends at all, and he has half a mind to barricade himself in his room so he doesn’t have to go.</p>
<p>The other half of his mind knows it’s now or never, and this more rational half wins out once he’s done changing.</p>
<p>(He doesn’t tell his friends that he would rather be at home, ‘processing’ under his fuzzy blanket. He thinks they know that anyways.)</p>
<p>They arrive. The drive is not particularly eventful, aside from Yahaba performing a cruelly shrill rendition of some new pop song on the radio— Hajime isn't sure of the title, and after that absolute wreck, he’s sure he never wants to hear the song again. He bids it good riddance when it ends.</p>
<p>The club is pulsing with lights of various colours and Hajime wants to go home. It’s too loud, there’s too many people migrating around him. He can feel his head vibrating in his skull from the way the bass shakes the floor. He wonders briefly if he’s getting old— if he doesn’t understand the appeal of partying because he’s simply grown out of the need to do it. Simply put, he doesn’t care anymore. He’s more than happy to sit in his far-too-empty apartment and sip on a beer while he watches whichever sports game is on the television. </p>
<p>Just not volleyball. Never volleyball. </p>
<p>He takes a seat at the bar, and the stool spins pleasantly. He orders something random off of the featured drinks menu— some sort of scotch, he’s sure. Makki would call him an old man if he saw the drink, and Hajime cracks a smile as it’s being handed to him. </p>
<p>“A pina colada, thank you!” </p>
<p>Hajime almost falls out of his chair.</p>
<p>He hasn’t actually seen Tooru since the fateful day he left Hajime’s life for good, and maybe that was for the better. Right now, all Hajime can see is how much he misses this man, all bright smiles (genuine or not) and peace signs. </p>
<p>He’s everything Hajime isn’t.</p>
<p>The thought makes the tired man’s head spin, so he turns to stand. He downs the rest of the drink in his hand, and while it burns on the way down, it doesn’t hurt any more than seeing Tooru in the flesh does.</p>
<p>“Hi, Iwaizumi.” He hears the voice say. Well, avoidance isn’t much of an option anymore, is it? He turns— a mistake.</p>
<p>(The man before him is more beautiful than he remembers, and the formality of hearing his own last name escape the lips that once kissed him makes him want to throw up his own heart.)</p>
<p>“Hi.” Is all Hajime can manage to say.</p>
<p>He’s not sure what else there is to say, if there even is anything else. ‘Hi’ seems to be the only thing on the table, because truthfully, he’s scared to say absolutely anything that might have Tooru walking out of his life again. Nothing ever hurt more than that did, and he doesn’t want to have to experience it again. He shuffles on his feet without a place to go for a few seconds, and Tooru reaches a hand out to make him stop. Hajime almost chokes on his tongue. </p>
<p>“I never really knew you,” Tooru begins. Hajime opens his mouth to retort, but the searing hot hand on his shoulder tightens. His mouth closes on instinct. “I didn’t try to, either. I thought that, because I’d known you forever, I knew everything there was to know.” His voice is softer than Hajime remembers, and his eyes look sort of glassy. Fuck. If he cries, it’ll be a goddamn chain reaction. </p>
<p>“You did know everything.” Hajime says. While he knows his words are hollow, he still lets them out. He wants to do anything to stop Tooru from looking this defeated, this empty. </p>
<p>“No. Don’t make excuses for me, either. You’ve been doing that forever.” Tooru finally removes his hand from Hajime, eyes dropping to his feet. </p>
<p>There’s an air of unresolved tension around them, and surprisingly, Hajime doesn’t feel the need to melt right back into Tooru’s arms as he always assumed he would. This past month, he’d always been of the assumption that he’d go running right back into Tooru’s arms at the drop of a dime, but with his eyes trailing on him now, he feels like he wants to run away. He did this. He made Tooru feel this way with his absence, and that thought is possibly the worst thing he could ever fathom. He looks down. Suddenly, his shoes are incredibly interesting. The plain black material is scuffed, and he wonders briefly when that happened. </p>
<p>Goddammit. He’ll have to buy new ones now. </p>
<p>“I love you.” Is what he foolishly decides on saying.</p>
<p>Tooru doesn’t recoil like Hajime suspected he might. He instead reaches into his pocket and pulls out a velvet box. When he opens it, inside sits a silver infinity twist laid with small diamonds, and Hajime chokes up. </p>
<p>“Is this…?” He looks at the ring and can spot no fundamental differences from the one he bought himself. </p>
<p>“As much as I think it’d be crazy romantic of me to go diving for the old one, that river is disgusting.” Tooru says.</p>
<p>Hajime manages a wet laugh, and grabs the ring. “You bought this?”</p>
<p>Tooru shakes his head. “No. Well, I was going to. I was snooping outside of the jewelry store, and a certain meddling bastard caught me in the act. He bought it and insisted that I give it to you here.”</p>
<p>Hajime turns to the side, where Kyoutani is offering him the biggest smile he’s ever seen from the man. Granted, that’s only a small turn of the lips, but it still makes the moment feel all the sweeter. </p>
<p>“Please. Let me try again.” Tooru’s voice is cracking, like he’s close to tears, and Hajime shuts him up by outstretching his hand.</p>
<p>“Anything for you.”</p>
<p>There’s a moment of silence, and then it is unsurprisingly ruined by Makki. </p>
<p>“Bravo, bravo! I thought I was going to have to throttle you two! Really, your performance was brilliant. Brings a tear to my dry eyes.”</p>
<p>“Fuck you.” Hajime says, but he’s smiling and so is Tooru.</p>
<p>Now, that’s all that matters.</p>
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